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YOU'RE FIT BUT MY GOSH
LOUISE TREWAVAS
WELL, HURRAH FOR MONTY HALLS! What a star: he looks good, he writes like a dream, he has proved himself to be Superhuman on the Channel 4 competition to find Britain's perfect man (and woman), and he dives. If there was any justice, the man would be awarded a grant from the Sports Council for promoting scuba-diving.
And how lucky it is for us that he took part in the programme. What would have happened if the only public representation of our sport had been the other diver involved?
British divers would have come away looking like a bunch of sulky losers, blaming their failings on wearing the wrong type of trainers. It would be just like blaming your buddy when you've messed up a dive - which, as we know, is something that hardly ever happens!
What I loved about the programme was the stark contrast in the approach and self-awareness of the winner and loser.
Monty's slightly pained expression in the dry-iced-and-stripped-to-the-waist publicity photos summed it up: he may have been scientifically tested and publicly voted the most superhuman male contestant, but he is not remotely impressed with himself. In fact, all the fuss and congratulation appears to be a bit embarrassing for him.
How fabulously British. It's OK to be fit; but it's not really OK to know it.
And then we have the last-placed male, Diver A, who remains adamant that it was all a media fix and that he has learned nothing from the experience.
Call me a witch, but when a person thrusts himself into the media spotlight claiming hero status but fails to live up to his own hype, it's hard to feel any sympathy. I tend to be too busy laughing my socks off.
This is not because I hate losers. Being British, I have a total soft spot for under-dogs, outsiders and oddballs. How we deal with failure and disappointment is a crucial element of British culture; after all, how would British diving survive without a stoic attitude to bad weather, poor viz and lunches consisting of one lone, soggy sarnie?
The ability to put up with adverse conditions, to endure hardship with cheerfulness, to be aware of and able to laugh at our own foibles and failings - surely that's what being British is all about.
Around the D-Day anniversary, it was fascinating to observe the difference in attitude between people in the UK and the USA towards heroic deeds. While the Americans do believe that they single-handedly won WW2 on the beaches of Normandy, and make films like Saving Private Ryan about their exploits, we Brits watch re-runs of Dad's Army, and TV interviews with understated veterans who have clearly been through hell and back, yet eschew any suggestion of personal heroism.
However big and clever some divers may believe themselves to be for finding a particular wreck or going to a certain depth, when put into context, our achievements hardly measure up. Let's accept it gracefully.
While UK divers can't be regarded as heroic, at least we manage quite a high score on the scale of enduring personal discomfort - which would be terribly useful if life was a reality TV show. This was the thought I used to distract myself with on a long decompression stop in very cold water.
I love diving, but right now I have to accept that I may have taken things too far. At least I can do so gracefully - thanks to the wonderful invention of adult nappies.
It's a good thing indeed to be able to take a longed-for wee on a cold deco stop but, in true British style, I can't simply let rip. Patience, discipline, restraint - a gradual and cautious approach is required.
After all, too much of a good thing can be wonderful - and, if you're not careful, very messy.
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